


The Night is Serving Us

by APgeeksout



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Community: fma_fic_contest, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:17:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy's got an awful lot to learn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night is Serving Us

**Author's Note:**

> Preseries, spoilers for manga ch 57 & 58

Roy has always been a diligent student.  Nothing about this changes when his textbook is inscribed on the body of a beautiful woman. 

Every fifth day, his recruit class is set at liberty after completing a final series of drills at sunset, and each time, while Maes takes Gracia for long rides in the country and the others go to the dance clubs and picture shows downtown, he returns to his teacher’s house and the makeshift classroom he and Riza have fashioned in what was once a disused parlor.  An armless chair where Riza can arrange herself in something like comfort sits before the fireplace.  Arrayed nearby are the stool that Roy repositions in orbit around her, a pair of sturdy tables just large enough to accommodate his notes and their empty teacups, and an adjustable worklight.   
   
“Is this workable?” Riza asks.  She is turned sideways in the chair, one foot drawn up into the seat, her chin propped on her knee.  A silk wrap drapes across her chest, spare material pooling in her lap, leaving the curve of her back bared to his view.        
   
“Perfect,” he murmurs and glances up to meet her placid gaze, studying him as he studies her.   
   
He smiles and continues sketching the outer element of a transmutation circle based on the formula encoded along the wing of her right shoulder.  
   
He adjusts the worklight and leans closer, the better to tease out the intricate notations.  He is freshly amazed at the minute detailing of the work, and awed at her capacity to endure what must have been many and lengthy tattooing sessions.  Her secret is that she only looks delicate.  
   
He reads the line along the curve of her shoulderblade and follows as it arcs upward, to where the glow of the worklight glimmers on the ends of her hair and the fine down at the nape of her neck.        
   
“Roy, you can touch me if you need to.  I won’t bite.”  She flashes a wry smile at him, and he’s suddenly very aware of her nearness.   
   
“You sure know how to dash a guy’s hopes, Miss Hawkeye,” he drawls.  Despite the unaccustomed flush he feels rising in his cheeks, there is something easy and comfortable in being teased by her.  Something that eases the tightness that forms in his chest when he considers the weight of what he’s learning, the potential it affords for his future.  The future of Amestris. 

He shifts the stool for a better angle and refrains from reaching out to adjust her posture, even though she would surely respond to his touch. If he allows his fingers to trace the paths his eyes have traveled - over the planes of her shoulderblades, down the lithe musculature of her back, along the elegant curve of her spine to the hollow at the small of her back and the gentle swell of her hips - then it will be too easy to follow with his mouth. And too hard to stop once he has the taste of her.

She's chosen him to share the knowledge that is her father's legacy, put her very flesh at his disposal to do it, and he won't permit himself to jeopardize the opportunity.

He forces his attention back to the diagrams instead of their wearer, winding back to the beginning of the segment to check his work. He's almost ready to declare himself satisfied with his comprehension when the worklight flickers and goes dark in tandem with every other light in the house.

"Happens almost every day lately," Riza says, the fabric of her wrapper rustling as she adjusts it around herself and rises. "Something to do with that construction site down the road. I'll get a lantern."

"Let me try something first." In the faint moonlight, he picks his way over to the hearth, kneels and chalks a careful circle onto the bricks. He rolls his sleeves up and presses his hands to the floor in the appropriate places.

One feeble spark springs forth, then half a dozen more in quick succession. One of them catches the kindling, and though it takes more coaxing with the iron fireplace tools than his pride can easily bear, he soon coaxes a crackling fire into life.

"Very good!" Riza pronounces. "We should celebrate."

"Because I'm now marginally more useful than a damp matchbook?"

"Well, there's also the fact that you didn't burn my house down trying to strike a spark. It calls for a drink, at the least." Her smile is beatific in the firelight. He doesn't hear her laugh until she's out of sight down the hall.

He moves to the sofa and takes a luxurious stretch, realizing as he catalogues the kinks in his back that it must be very late. She's sacrificed her whole evening for him.

She settles next to him and presses a cold bottle into his hand.

"You're really coming along."

"I've had excellent teachers."

"Flattery!" She leans in to clink her bottle against his and doesn't shift away. "Practice that. You'll need it in politics."

"I'll need a lot of things, I think."

"I'll help you find them."

They're quiet for a while after that, emptying their bottles in the firelight. The warmth of her body radiates through the wrap, kindling his awareness, sparking on his nerves, as though she were the one practicing flame alchemy.

"It doesn't look like the electricity's coming back tonight." He rises awkwardly. "If you'll be all right, then I should probably go-"

"You're really kind of hopeless, aren't you?" With an exasperated chuckle, she stands and leans into him, curling a hand in his hair and moving her lips close to his ear. "It's too dark to study, but the offer stands: You can touch me, Roy."  


**Author's Note:**

> Title snagged from Hey Rosetta!'s "There's An Arc"
> 
> Written for [fma-fic-contest](http://fma-fic-contest.livejournal.com/), Prompt #213, "Electricity" and winning that week's 2nd place, and a pretty banner by SonjaJade, viewable [here](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/apgeeksout/13633794/15364/15364_900.png).


End file.
